As Yet Unknown
by murphyaloysius
Summary: Spontaneous drabble that appeared to me. Heavily implied LVHP. POV of Lucius.


**Warnings:** mentions of slash

**Disclaimers: **I do not own any of these characters. Or places. This one just kinda wrote itself...so the backstory is coming automatically.

**AN:** Review? I really _want_ criticism. Literary and stylistic criticism, seeing as I have recently started writing fanfiction.

The Short, Happy Love Life of Harry Potter

The problems associated with dating a psychotic genius hell-bent on taking over the world could not all be overcome by sex. Harry sat rather stiffly next to an equally stiff Lucius Malfoy, who could not quite seem to meet him in the eye. Odd. The political, social, and economical gap didn't seem quite as wide and yawning of an abyss in the solitude of his head. Of course, it could be that Lucius's Lord, mentor, dictator, and occasional torturer was sleeping with a chil-MAN the same age as his peacock of a son; and the stiff man was unable to condone borderline pedophilia and similarly unable to reconcile his Lord doing any wrong. Pesky moral quandaries.

The chink of silver knives against equally snobbish porcelain plates did nothing to dispel the awkward meeting between the blond first lieutenant of the Forces of Evil and the figurehead of the Forces of Good.

The silence yawned, stretched, and wound more tenaciously around the cozy little gathering in Malfoy Manor.

xxx

A certain snake-faced bastard strolled languidly down an ornate hall smothered in gold leaf. The dull gold distorted and warped the visage of the Dark Lord, then peeled and fell of in little curlicues behind the intimidating robes of You-Know-Who. Portraits scurried out of their frames, hurriedly averting their eyes as cobwebs swept away the cheerful pomposity on the walls behind him. Already, the sconces dimmed to a dull orange and allowed shadows to curl larger beneath expensive furniture.

xxx

Lucius cringed as a particularly mournful rendition of "Rule Britannia" echoed into the dining room. How his Lord turned the valiant fighting spirit of her Majesty's fleet into a dirge worthy of Poe, had he been musically inclined, the patriarch of the Honorable House of Malfoy never knew. Not that he would admit to knowing, let alone admiring, a muggle poet of all things.

At least his lord was in a good mood, small blessing that it was. When Lord Voldemort appeared cheerful, it typically indicated someone, somewhere was either dead, dying, or all manner of gruesome activities. However, things perked up for the forces of evil. Upon statistical analysis, when this particular song made an appearance, fewer crucios were handed out and one time the bastar- DARK LORD (thank Merlin that long distance Legilimency had yet to be invented) had distributed cookies.

Avery had yet to overcome his terror of baked pastries, as it brought to mind the maniacally grinning Dark Lord to the forefront of his mind.

The Dark Lord swept in, but Lucius was already kneeling upon the white tile of the sunroom, head properly bent in deference. "My lord," greeted.

When no reply was forthcoming, he tentatively peered upward through long blond hair. Then snapped his entire head up in shock.

The Dark Lord...was...snogging. Rather passionately. In a who-bloody-cares-about-oxygen-or-drool-or-even-sho cked-bystanders kind of way.

Potter pulled back first, grin slightly dazed but blindingly cheerful. "Good morning love." The suicidal idiot kept his hands interlaced behind _THE BLOODY DARK LORD_'s neck, who he had _JUST SNOGGED_ in his sunroom.

Lucius tensed, ran through body-disposal methods, and hurriedly composed excuses as to _why _the boy-who-lived was found dead at his manor as of March 5th.

His Lord, however, only hummed and distractedly waved Lucius to stand, as if completely ignorant that the laws of the universe had just been fundamentally altered and that hell had just frozen over. "Rather. Why weren't you in bed this morning?"

Another sharp-toothed grin, this time in Lucius's direction. He instinctively stepped back, unsure as to when Potter met his darling cousin Bellatrix and learned that particular, maniacal from her. "Oh, nothing really. Just wanted to meet Lucy here."

Sputtering, 'Lucy' almost, _almost _went for his wand. Then remembered two things. One: the Dark Lord was ostensibly sleeping with the green-eyed prat and would not take kindly to said prat's death. Two: he really didn't want to scrub blood out of his robes. Again. And this time, it would be his blood to boot.

Red eyes narrowed, apparently catching the aborted motion of his right hand. _Shit._ His Lord's voice was velvety smooth and still in that creepy, high tenor. "Really. I see."

"Yes, really. Stop being all wounded about it. I was hungry, and I wanted to meet the man Draco keeps threatening me with."

Oh no. _He did not just imply that he threw over the Dark Lord to meet me. Oh dear Merlin. I am sorry Narcissa, Draco. Please arrange a fitting funeral. I want to be buried in my white robes with gold embroidery. _

"I am not wounded." Thankfully, the man had looked away, and instead loomed threateningly over Potter's petite frame. The large hands gently encircling the boy's waist belied any threat encompassed within his tone.

Lucius shifted onto his back foot and slowly backed away, hoping that the two were too immersed in each other to notice. The implication within Potter's words and his Lord's possessive, _slightly_ insane ego would ensure a painful, humiliating punishment.

A giggle. "Like shit you aren't. Stop talking like that. It gives me the goose-bumps...ew no, not like that you pervert."

Another slow step backwards.

"Lucius. Stay." Came the snapped words. "Sit." A sharp gesture downwards directed him to an ebony chair, in which he gracefully and with poise collapsed into. "Eat."

The Malfoy Lord stared at the plates heaped with decadent delicacies such as smoked and honey cured back bacon, pink ham, fried tomato, fried mushrooms, little crisp rolls of bacon, scrambled and fried eggs, fried bread, sausages from four counties of England, black pudding, hot toast in white napkins, fresh rolls, sweet butter, marmalades of all cuts and colours, jams, jellies and pyramids of fruit, baked halibut steaks, fried whiting, stewed figs, pheasant legs, collared tongue, kidneys on toast, sausages with fried bread, pig's cheek and Melton pork pie.

He had absolutely no appetite. Seeing his Lord stick his tongue down the throat of Draco's ex-school-mate had that effect on him. But, orders were orders, and he had done much worse at the whim of his lord; he nabbed a piece of toast and started munching elegantly.

When he had finished his second piece of toast, Potter had insinuated himself on his Lord's lap and was eating strawberries. Halfway through his third piece of toast, the brat was being _fed _strawberries. By his fourth piece, all pretense of eating breakfast had been shed and the two were all but frotting in his breakfast parlor.

Before clothes could be shed, Lucius hurriedly stood and began backing to the door. Although the Dark Lord tracked his progress with a scarlet eye, no sharply barked order called him back into the room. The door closed with a quiet snick, and he collapsed against a wall, ignoring the sharp edge of a decorative table.

Suddenly, the sounds from within the breakfast parlor became much more...heated. He made a mental note to permanently retire all the furniture within that room, if he could ever eat in there again.

Lucius suddenly recalled urgent business on the opposite side of the manor. The stables. Yes, he had work to do in the stables, never-mind that he never set foot in the blasted place since he was twelve.


End file.
